


Souls of Conflict

by Samorry (McHammory)



Category: Hamilton - Fandom, Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: F/M, M/M, Modern AU, Modern war, War, modern war au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-29
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-10-12 17:49:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10496355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/McHammory/pseuds/Samorry
Summary: Basically a modern war AU of Hamilton.  It gets pretty messed up eventually and there's a lot of ships.  Idk I'm not good with summaries.





	1. Chapter 1

Alexander walked down the empty street.  It was so quiet, he could actually hear the soles of his shoes quietly tapping on the concrete.  New York City, once called “the greatest city in the world”, now strangely soft and somber.  It wasn’t completely silent, it never was, but the lack of activity always made the immigrant uneasy.  He had always wanted a war, something to fight in, but now that he was in the middle of the bloodbath, he always had a creeping sense of regret up his spine.  

At least he got to stay at the city he held so dearly, but it was not the same. The entire city was split into three sections: The patriots one on side, British soldiers and loyalists to the other side, and a small neutral space in between.  There weren’t any actual territories, no laws prohibiting one side from going to the other.  The borders just appeared, and no one dared to cross them.  

Luckily, it was forbidden to randomly cause violence on anyone, even if they were a soldier from the other side.  Any battles were planned out and organized, and all civilians were evacuated from the area before the armies arrived at the battleground.

Still, as a lieutenant colonel, Alexander still had a lot weighing him down.  He has seen many soldiers come and go.  Many entered because they have dreams of glory and wonder, others joined because they were forced to.  Many left because they are overtaken by fear and disgust of the war, many more left because a bullet passed right through their skull.  

Alexander saw many young men die because of a mistake he made as a commander.  He saw soldiers desperately hold their friends and family as the life seeped away from them.  Alexander reached his hand behind his neck, still feeling the burning stares of hate that were aimed at him on the battlefield.  Images of cold, limp bodies filled his sight as remorse clouded his mind.

“Yo, Alex!” A familiar voice called, clearing the fog from Alexander’s mind.  

Alexander looked up and saw his good friend, Hercules Mulligan standing at the corner of the street.. 

“Hey, Hercules!” Alexander called back, waving his hand.

The burly man walked up to Alexander with two drinks in his hand. “Man, you sure took your time coming to the neutral territory, huh?”

“Yeah.” Alexander sighed, swiping one of the drinks. “Nothing like taking in the sights of the city.”

Hercules rolled his eyes. “Sure.  Like you don’t hate being near British territory and only come here because there’s a good coffee shop.”

Alexander laughed, “You got me there.”

The lieutenant looked away from Hercules, expecting to see someone else there, and yet no one stood in front of him.  Hercules looked at where Alexander was staring and understood what he was thinking.

He was thinking their friend, John Laurens.  John had died around a year ago, being fatally shot by British troops.  He was buried along with the many people in his regiment, though he would never be able to be recognized as all of the bodies were already decomposing when they were found.  Alexander never quite got used to not seeing the freckled face that made John stand out from a crowd.  He never quite got used to never hearing John’s small quips or his powerful rants about what he believed in.  No matter what, John was a large part of Alexander’s life and losing him was like sawing an arm off without anesthetic.

“Come on, Alex.” Hercules said, walking away. “I know you miss him, but this is no time to mourn.”

Alex nodded and followed his friend.  Hercules was right, anyways.  They were meeting to chat and catch up with each other, not to grieve.  

“How’s Eliza?”  Alexander asked, his fade slightly flushing when he said her name.

Hercules shrugged, taking a sip of his drink. “She’s doing well.  She’s still getting used to her new position as a captain.”

“Seems like yesterday she was a freshly recruited spy, learning everything from you, huh?”

“Yep...can’t believe she managed to get so far so quickly.” Hercules chuckled.

“Why didn’t you take the position when it was up for grabs?” Alexander questioned before taking a drink.  

“I dunno.  I like being a spy, I guess. Plus, I felt that Eliza needed to get closer to Peggy. They have a lot to catch up on.”

Alexander nodded. “Any speeches today?”

“Guess we’ll find out when we reach the town square.” 

The two friends walked for a long time, though their conversations kept the hike from becoming unbearable. When they reached the town square, there was, in fact, a speech happening on that day. 

“There's the prick of public speaking.” Hercules announced somewhat quietly. 

“Prick’s an understatement.” Alex scoffed, eyeing the man standing at the podium. 

Samuel Seabury.  The ass who is dumb enough to stand in front of a crowd of patriots and tell them they’re wrong.  It seemed like Alex and Hercules arrived at the end the speaker’s tirade, for Samuel was straightening his papers as well as his hair.  He brushed off his dress shirt and pants, scanning the crowd for a brief moment.  No one bothered to clap at any of his speeches.  Clapping showed what side you were on, and no one could take any risks, not even in neutral territory.  Samuel glanced at Alexander and Hercules, seeming more nervous at the sight of them.  Alexander couldn’t blame the speaker.  After all, he was the one who humiliated Samuel during one of his speeches in front of an entire crowd.  The look on Seabury’s face when he walked away was priceless.  

Alexander stepped forward. “Let’s tear this dude apart, eh?”

“Not so fast.” Hercules interrupted, placing a hand on Alexander’s shoulder. “Someone’s already on it.”

Alexander looked back to see the enormous figure of Charles Lee stroll through the dispersing crowd up to the speaker, who looked miniscule next to the general.  Samuel saw Charles and immediately took a hesitant step backwards. 

“This is gonna be good.” Alexander said, rubbing his hands together. 

The two stood a somewhat large distance away from Charles and Samuel, or at least far enough to not hear what they were saying. 

Charles began with a quick snap. Nothing too large. He had to build up his foundation to a large final blow.  

Samuel responded by crossing his arms in a defensive manner and shooting some snide comments back. 

The general barked out a laugh and out one arm of his hip, letting the other hang limply at his side.  He gave what seemed like a sarcastic retort and gave a pouty smirk to Samuel. 

Samuel shrugged and calmly countered with something that caught Charles off guard. The speaker dug into the weak spot, insulting the general for much longer than anything Charles had said before. Samuel ended with dramatically stroking his chin and acting like he was reminiscing to himself. 

Charles opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He had nothing to respond. 

Samuel chuckled and grabbed a cigar and lighter from the pocket of his pants. He muttered something before putting the cigar in his mouth and beginning to flick the lighter. 

Charles snatched the lighter from Samuel before he could light the cigar.  He smirked and turned away. 

Samuel yelled something and raised his arms, clearly confused and angry. 

Charles turned around to face Samuel and bent forward, nearly their faces together. He murmured something gently before turning again and sauntering away. 

Samuel’s face flushed red with shame. He stuffed the unlit cigar in his pocket before storming in the other direction, muttering. 

“Charles!” Alexander shouted, bringing the general’s attention to him and Hercules. 

“Ah, Alex!  Hercules!” Charles walked over to the both of them and nodded in greeting. “How are you two doing today?”

“Normal, I suppose.” Hercules replied. “How're you?”

“I'm doing well now that I got to see Seabury’s embarrassed face.” Charles grinned, playing with the lighter in his hand. 

“It's good to let people like him know that the patriots will never back down!” Alexander said, a determined glint in his eye. 

Hercules nodded. “Surprised you didn't crush that tiny man right on site.”

“Hercules, you know that's illegal.” Charles patted the man of the back. “Though I would like to knock some sense into that speaker.”

Alexander chortled. “We all do, Charles. We all do.”

The large general looked down at his feet.  The mention of the speaker did that to him sometimes. 

“Can I invite you two for some drinks?” Charles offered. 

“That would be nice.” Alexander said. 

“Just stop me when I've had eight.” Hercules added. 

The three men laughed and walked for the nearest bar, a new sense of pride residing in them. Alexander looked at the buildings and people bustling about. He couldn't see the speaker anywhere. 

_ “Charles sure made him run.” _ Alexander thought to himself. 

Small victories such as that always kept Alexander’s head up. It's what kept the city he lived in the greatest city ever in his eyes. 


	2. Chapter 2

Tip tap tip tap tip tap

He tried to keep his footsteps as quiet as possible. His dark jacket and black curls bounced with the soft wind. A file folder, about an inch thick with pages, was nestled under his jacket and pressed against his side.

The skinny man whisked his way through the streets. But, even at his quick pace, he could hear the slight beat of boots behind him. The man muttered to himself. He did not want to stray from his path, but he had to complete his task without any witnesses.

The man led his pursuer into one of the darkest corners of street, a small lane carved out from the rest of the buildings. He calmly faced the brick wall that stood before him, waiting for the other set of feet to stop.

“You backed yourself into a corner. Literally.” The pursuer chuckled, footsteps coming to a stop.

“Is there something you have to bother me about?” The man growled, lowering his voice.

“What do you have under your jacket?” His pursuer asked, not wasting any time.

“Why do you care?” The man retorted, still disguising his voice.

“Well, gosh. I'm sorry for being a little suspicious when…”

The man rolled his eyes. He's heard all of this before. You did this, you did that. What you did back there was suspicious. It all blended together into a deep shade of purple.

The man took a deep breath and focused on the sounds around him. He took in the dripping of drops from yesterday’s storm. He took in quiet swoosh of an evening breeze. He searched , somewhat enjoying the wet mustiness that was the alleyway he stood in. It was calming, even if the air did make his clothes somewhat sticky

“Hey.” The pursuer interjected, snapping the man from his thoughts by violently grabbing his shoulder. “Were you even listening, dumbass?”

“Of course, of course.” The man replied dismissively. “You love to invade other’s privacy. Very redeemable for a radical patriot.”

The pursuer growled and lunged for the folder under the man’s jacket. The man quickly reacted, grabbing his arm and whipping around to face the pursuer.

“You little shit!” The pursuer yelled, swinging at the man’s jaw.

The man quickly leaned backwards, letting the flying knuckles slam against the stone wall. The pursuer grunted with pain.

“I believe I have a right to look into someone’s ‘privacy’ if it means catching a-”

Shhhkt.

“You talk too much.” The man laughed, digging a knife deeper into his pursuer’s stomach.

The pursuer’s eyes widen and his mouth twitched but no sound came out. The man gently set the other man down, pressing a palm over the pursuer’s lips. Without much thought, he tore the knife from his pursuer’s flesh. He curled his lip as he felt vibrations pulse under his hand.

When the muffled screams finally ceased, the man dragged the body to the nearest dumpster. He dumped the twitching body into it and blocked the groans of pain with a load of trash before shutting it.

The man checked inside his jacket. The file was still there. He signed and continued on his path, praying the fresh corpse in the dumpster was the last person he saw.

He walked for a long time, and luckily no one else seemed suspicious of him. The streets remained barren, much to the man’s delight. Soon, he finally reached the line no patriot dared to cross. The man took a sweeping look at the streets around him before whistling and calling words of encouragement, acting like a man calling his dog to him.

A head eventually peeked around a corner, not of a dog, but of a small Redcoat, no older than seventeen. The young soldier caught sight of the man and nervously jogged over to him.

The man pushed his curls from his face and retrieved the folder, handing it to her.

“Burn the jacket.” The man ordered, handing the jacket to the small woman as well, leaving him in a deep purple shirt, jeans, and a blue ascot.

The small Redcoat inhaled sharply at the red blotches in the fabric, but nodded anyways.

“Long live the king.” She said, saluting.

“Long live the king.” The man repeated, saluting back.

The man watched the little soldier disappear behind one of the many buildings. He sighed, reflecting on what he had done. There was a sort of pain crawling up his ribcage. The man coughed and lightly pounded his chest, noticing the light of a nearby bar. He sighed and began following it. He needed a drink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I'm sorry that this chapter was short! To be honest, I didn't really plan this out. But who is this mystery man? You'll find out soon enough!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hrrrnnn I'm SO SORRY that this took so long! (for the few people who read this). I was having a major writer's block. I promise that I'll try to get the next chapter out quickly! Comments are appreciated and thank you all for reading!
> 
> PS: Different languages are marked in [brackets]

“Eliza, get dressed.  We're going out.” Angelica called, slipping on a jacket. 

“At this time?” Her sister questioned, sitting up from her position on the couch. 

“Yep.  We're going to the tavern.  I received a distress text from Charles”

Eliza groaned. “Then why are you making me go?”

“Because a) You're very stressed out right now, and b) Washington's supposedly there, so you could ask him if he got your message.”  

The younger sister sighed and stood up from the couch. “Fine.” She said, tying her black hair into a messy bun.

Angelica tossed her sister a motorcycle helmet.  “Let’s go.”

It didn’t take long for the sisters to get to their destination, mainly because Angelica didn’t give much thought for human life when she was on her motorbike.  The engine revved as she saw the small building ahead.  She found parked her bike right next to the curb, already hearing the drunken yelling that came from the inside.

“Are you alive, Liz?”  Angelica asked, running her fingers through her hair.

“Somehow.” Eliza grumbled, taking off the helmet and handing it to Angelica.

Angelica grinned and tucked the helmet under her arm.  The two sisters nodded at each other before entering the bar.  As promised, there was an intoxicated Alexander Hamilton, screaming and kicking in the grip of Hercules. 

“FUCK YOU!” He yelled. “GO FUCK YOURSELF!”

The crowd seemed to part right down the middle. Alexander and Hercules were on one side of the building while a lanky man with brown hair hunched over a table, nose bleeding. Washington himself stood by the man, desperately trying to fix the situation. 

“Lay off, Alex!” Hercules shouted, keeping the small colonel from attacking again. 

“No!” Alexander protested, thrashing in Hercules’ strong grip. “He insulted John!  He called him weak!  John was not weak!”

The man glared at Alexander, blood still trailing from his nostrils. “Like you'd know what being strong is like. You turn away when people talk about mistakes you've made as a commander! The death of Laurens’ was your punishment! Your fault!”

“You fucker!  YOU TAKE THAT BACK!” Alexander shrieked. He suddenly broke from Hercules’ grip and sprinted for the man. That's when Angelica decided to step in. 

She shoved her way through the crowd and grabbed Alexander by the collar of his shirt. “Alright, alright. Enough of this.”

Gasps and surprised whispers circulated around Angelica when she interjected. 

“A...Angelica?” Alexander asked, eyes widening. 

“That's General Schuyler to you.” Angelica snapped. 

More whispers flew around the crowd, slightly bothering Angelica. 

“Now. Tell me what exactly caused this fight?”

Alexander looked down in shame. “He insulted John, Angelica. He said terrible things about him.”

“Not a good enough reason to punch him.” 

“But, Angelica!  He disparaged him!  Tried to rip apart his reputation! He-”

“Alex.” The general sighed. “You're a great guy, but you really need to just shut up.  Just...shut your mouth for two seconds, don't let any sound come out. Just shut up.”

Alexander and Angelica stared at each other. One glance was firm and serious, while the other one was exhausted but terrified.  The crowd slowly began to disperse, seeing as there was nothing more to watch. 

“Angelica, you should take Alexander home.” Eliza suggested, “I think I'm going to stay here and have a few drinks.”

Angelica shifted her gaze to her sister. “Who's going to drive you home then?”

“Hercules can walk me home. You're staying, right Herc?”

The burly man turned a faint shade of red. “Uh...y-yeah, I’m staying.  What about you, Lee?”

A voice called from farther away. “I’ll walk home. Shouldn't bother you guys anyways.”

Charles finished his drink, setting the glass aside and walking over to Angelica. “Thanks for coming.  I thought the fight would never stop.”

“Hey, anything for my friend.” Angelica replied. “Alright, Alex. Let's get you home.”

Alexander hesitantly leaned on Angelica. “Okay…” He pouted. 

Angelica lead Alexander outside, trying to ignore her her rising heartbeat. Charles exited the bar right after. 

“I should go too.” Washington declared. “Again, I apologize for the way my colonel acted. I'll make sure this kind of behavior is prevented in the future.”  Washington handed a napkin to the man Alexander attacked. 

“You better.” The man growled, wiping his nose with the offered napkin. “The patriots are already struggling enough.”

Washington nodded, leaving the man to go to Eliza. “Captain Schuyler. I received your message.”

Eliza straightened her back, trying to look calm. “T...thank you sir. If I could make a suggestion, I would check everyone’s information. See if there are any discrepancies.”

“Of course.  I'll get people to inspect immediately. We can't afford to lose any more important files.”  

“Yes, sir.”

Eliza and Washington saluted to each other before the general took his leave.  Eliza sighed and sat next to Hercules, who had already received a drink for her. 

“Hey.” Hercules greeted, handing Eliza her drink.

“Hi.” She replied, sipping the alcohol.

“Stressful day?” Her friend asked, giving a supportive smile.

Eliza sighed. “Stressful is an understatement.  Sometimes I regret becoming a captain.  Maybe I should step down.”

“Aw don’t say that, Liz!” Hercules objected. “You’re going to be an amazing captain, and you’ll be a general in no time!”

Eliza laughed and took another gulp of beer.  It was great to know there were many people who would stick by her.

The two of them chatted for a long time after that.  They talked and talked as more and more people filed out from the bar.  Eventually, the bar only had a few people in it.  At this point, Eliza was getting tired of talking to Hercules.  She appreciated his company, but she always had these kinds of conversations with him.  Hercules rambled endlessly, and it was becoming a bit much to the captain.  She wanted something new, something unknown she could discover.

That’s when  _ he _ walked in.

Eliza’s gaze immediately snapped to the newcomer.  He was a tall and skinny man, almost as tall as Hercules.  His black curls were tied neatly behind his head, staying above his neck.  His chestnut skin seemed to glow under the light, encapsulating Eliza’s attention.  He sat down at a table with two chairs on the other side of the bar from Eliza, calling a waiter over.  The man adjusted his blue ascot like a tie, straightening it over his deep purple shirt.  A patriot, by the looks of it.  When he received his drink, the man crossed one leg over the other, widening a small hole on the knee of his jeans. He was a patriot, by the looks of it.

Eliza was enamored by the newcomer.  He was beautiful, perhaps the most perfect man she had ever seen.   She walked over to the man, as if she were in a trance

“Uh...L-Liz?” Hercules called, clearly worried.

Eliza didn’t seem to notice her friend’s calls and sat next to the man. 

“I don't think I've seen you in our ranks before.” Eliza greeted as soon as she sat down. 

The man looked over, drink in hand. He was caught off guard by the sudden entrance of Eliza. “I suppose not, mademoiselle. I'm fairly new to the army.”

“Ah, I see.” Eliza replied, trying to hide her blush.. “It's good to know that people like you are joining the patriots.  What is your name?”

The man smiled kindly. “My name is too long to be remembered, but you can just call me Lafayette.”

“My name is Elizabeth Schuyler.” She replied. 

“Schuyler?” Lafayette repeated.  “As in...General Angelica Schuyler?”

She nodded. “We’re sisters.”

“Really?” Lafayette barked a smooth, clean laugh. “You two look nothing alike!”

Eliza giggled. “Yeah...we get that a lot.” She tucked piece of hair that had fallen from her bun behind her ear.  She held out her hand.  “It's a pleasure to meet you, Monsieur Lafayette.”

“The pleasure’s all mine, mademoiselle.” Lafayette returned, taking Eliza’s hand and kissing it instead of shaking it. “It was worth traveling from France if it meant that I would meet a woman like you.”

Eliza smiled, trying to ignore how warm her face was. “So the accent isn’t just for show?”  She teased.  

“Non, mademoiselle.” He chuckled. “I was born and raised in France.  And although this country is amazing, I sometimes find myself having trouble with speaking your...words…”

Eliza smirked, amused at the Frenchman’s quick struggle. “[We could always just speak in French.”]

Lafayette raised his eyebrows, impressed. “[Ah, so you speak French?]”

“[Yes.  My father made me learn it since I was little.]” Eliza explained, looking at her glass of alcohol. 

“[And I can guess that your sister knows it too?]”

Eliza nodded. “[My entire family knows it.]”

A few moments of awkward silence passed between the two. 

“[I still can't believe you are related to the right hand woman of Washington.]” Lafayette thought aloud, breaking the silence between them. “[What position do you have?]” He asked before taking a sip of beer. 

“[I was recently made into a captain.]” Eliza explained. 

Lafayette nearly spat out his drink. “[Captain?  That's it?]”

Eliza couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. “[Is that a problem?]”

The man’s face flushed and his eyes darted around the building. “[It’s just that...you seem like...like someone...you don't act like a new captain.]”

“[What’s that supposed to mean?]”

“[Y-you...it’s just...you seem much more deserving of a higher role.]”

“[Oh please.]” Eliza laughed, noticing how Lafayette’s face was almost as red as hers. “[I’m barely good enough to be a captain, let alone a general like my sister.]”

“[Mademoiselle, I am positive that’d you’d make a better captain than anyone in the entire world.]” Lafayette placed his hand right next to Eliza’s while his other hand held his drink. “[It seems unfair that you are just a captain.]” 

Eliza glanced at how close their hands were before looking away. “[I don’t know...Sometimes I feel like I’m overshadowed by Angelica.]” 

“[That’s understandable, mademoiselle.]”

She looked at Lafayette. “[B-but she’s a better person than me.  A better leader.  Better at everything, really.]”

“[Eliza.]” Lafayette said firmly, placing his hand on hers. “[That is not true.]”

Eliza looked at Lafayette’s hands which was suddenly gently gripping hers.  She looked at Lafayette with wide eyes.  Lafayette stared back, seemingly lost in the calm brown color of the woman’s eyes.  He blushed.  This woman...this Eliza...the way she thought of herself, the fact she saw herself as a low being.  It hurt him.

Lafayette and Eliza cracked a small at each other.  In Eliza’s eyes, she saw a perfect man.  One who she wanted to get to know more.

“[It’s getting late, no?]” Lafayette announced shyly.  “[Perhaps it’s time to take my leave…]”

Lafayette stood from his chair. “[It was nice to meet you, mademoiselle.]”

“[W...where are you going to go?]” Eliza asked, placing a question out of the blue.

“[T...to my place.]” Lafayette replied.

Eliza stood up, setting her glass down. “[Mind if I come with you?]”

The frenchman grinned, trying to hide his shock.  He held his arm out. “[Of course, mademoiselle.]”

Lafayette paid for the drinks before the two interlocked their arms and walking out of the bar, deep into the night.  It was like they floated from the building, leaving no trace of their disappearance.  The only one who witnessed their leave was the tailor that Eliza had left behind.


	4. Chapter 4-A Speaker's Secret

Samuel Seabury leaned back in the small office chair, reading the few words he had just typed.  The speaker exhaled a puff of smoke and stared at the fumes as they disappeared into the ceiling. He sighed and looked back at his computer screen, slightly focusing on the hypnotic blinking of the cursor for a moment. Samuel surveyed his draft, rereading previous paragraphs and eventually the entire document. He read it over and over for what seemed like hours.  Finally, Samuel sighed and began tapping the backspace key in almost the exact tempo as his wall clock.  He deleted a few words, then a sentence, then a few more sentences, then a paragraph, and then everything.  Samuel groaned and rubbed his face.  This speech had to be perfect, there couldn't be any exceptions. 

The speaker absolutely hated writing, but at the same time he couldn’t live without it.  It was his lifeblood.  The only way he could speak his thoughts.  Plus, there would always be those days where he could get a kick out of it, even those kinds of days were as rare as snow during July.  Even so, there was no way Samuel could live without his fingers tapping on the plastic buttons of his keyboard.  

Samuel was suddenly broke from his self-rant by a sudden and violent fit of coughing.  He took a quick sip of tea as he continued to choke on what may have been extra cigarette ashes.  When Samuel finally managed to breathe properly, he took the cigar from his teeth and tapped it, letting the black particles fall on a small dish. For the next few minutes, Samuel mindlessly flipped through a collection of tabs, which included the now blank draft, a thesaurus site, and an outline for his speech.  Suddenly, Samuel’s phone buzzed, making a strange shaking sound as it vibrated on the wooden table. He sighed and picked up his phone.  

_ [Henry Ramsay: Hey man, you really need to get more info soon.  KG’s getting pissed.] _

Samuel sighed, immediately responding. 

_ [Sam: I know.  I’m trying my best, ok?] _

_ [Henry Ramsay: Good] _

_ [Henry Ramsay: I know you’re busy with speeches and stuff, but the last thing I want is you getting hurt for “incompetence”] _

The speaker couldn’t help but crack a small grin.

_ [Sam: Don’t worry.  I’m going to get some soon.] _

_ [Henry Ramsay: Please do.] _

_ [Henry Ramsay: Still, be careful. We don't want him to find out.] _

_ [Sam: Will do.] _

Samuel set his phone aside. The mere thought of his “mission” made him groan. What was King George thinking?  Samuel pressed the cigarette butt on the plate, extinguishing it quickly. The speaker would’ve lit another cigarette, but a certain general took his lighter, and Samuel didn't feel like walking to his stove again.  Just then, Samuel heard a sound behind him. 

The sound of his front door unlocking.  The door was quickly open and shut, and Samuel barely had any time to react before he felt two familiar arms wrap around him.

“Wait!” Samuel squeaked.

The speaker was pulled onto his feet before he could complete his sentence.  Samuel looked up and saw the man who entered his house.

The man who always met him after his speeches.

The man who was a patriot general. 

“W-wait!  I-”  Samuel’s words were quickly cut off by a quick, but passionate kiss to the lips.

The man who stole his lighter.

“Hey, Sammy...”

Samuel couldn’t help but melt into the embrace of the other man at the sound of those words.

_ The man he loved.  _

Charles laughed as he held up Samuel from falling. “Whoa there.  I don't want you getting hurt.”  Charles wrapped his arms around his lover’s waist, pulling him closer. “Not when I'm here.”

The general gently peppered Samuel’s face with his lips, making the smaller man’s cheeks turn red.

“Oh my god, Charles!” Samuel giggled, “At least let me check if the blinds are closed first.”

“Does it matter that much?” Charles asked.

“Someone might see us.” Samuel replied, rolling his eyes. “We need to be careful.”

Charles sighed and placed his chin on top of Samuel’s head.  “But if you go check, then I’d have to let gooooo!” He jokingly whined.

The smaller man scoffed and snuggled his head into the Charles’ neck. “You don’t  _ have _ to let go of me, y’know.” 

“What?  We’re gonna make out while closing blinds?” Charles questioned, planting a kiss on the top of Samuel’s head. “That’s new.” 

Samuel grinned and kissed Charles back. “There's nothing wrong with trying something new. How do you think we got together?”

“We ‘got together’ because you couldn’t spend two days without seeing my face.” 

“No…” Samuel corrected, “We got together because you were the only person who actually listens to me speak.  For whatever reason.”

“Well, I listen to you speak because you make amazing speeches.  Extremely stupid and completely wrong, sure.  But still amazing.”

Samuel sighed and pressed his ear on Charles’ chest, listening to his heartbeat. “All my speeches are just thrown together at the last second.  At least it keeps the higher ups off my ass.”

“Heh…” Charles lovingly tilted Samuel’s head so he was looking at him. “Then I guess you’re gonna have to stop me.”

“Stop you from what?” Samuel asked, raising an eyebrow.

Charles smirked. “From getting on your ass…” He cheekily replied, giving Samuel’s butt a tiny squeeze. 

Samuel’s cheeks immediately turned a deeper red. “C-Charles, p-please…” He stammered, gently pushing Charles’ hand back to his waist. “Have some dignity.”

The general scoffed in response. “I lost all of that when I met you.”

“No way.  You still have dignity in my eyes.” Samuel gazed into his lover’s eyes, grinning sweetly.

“You must be blind, then.”

“My eyes work just fine, thank you.”

Charles laughed and softly pressed his lips on Samuel’s, hugging the smaller man closer. Samuel wrapped his arms around Charles’ neck, pressing himself closer to the larger man. 

The general pulled away after a long minute, leaving Samuel breathless. The speaker gazed at Charles with an enamored smile. He pressed his head to the general’s chest, continuing to gaze in the larger man’s eyes. Charles suddenly swept Samuel from his feet and carried him like a bride. Samuel squeaked and instinctively curled up in Charles’ arms, as if he was preparing to be dropped. 

“O-oh my…” Samuel breathed.

The speaker giggled as Charles carried him through the small house, eventually reaching Samuel’s bedroom. Charles spun around and sat back on the mattress, crashing onto the blue-ish covers. He cradled Samuel carefully, pushing hair from his eyes. 

“How was work today?” Samuel asked seemingly from nowhere. 

Charles shrugged. “Nothing new. Boring as always.”

“Really…?” Samuel questioned playfully. “You didn't…burn anything?”

“Burn anything?” Charles repeated. “How would I ever be able to burn anything?”

Samuel sat up and turned around so he was facing Charles. “You took something from me.” He said, slightly lowering his voice. “I’d like it back.”

Charles was silent for a moment, but only for a moment. “Why do you like that lighter so much?” 

The smaller man laughed and softly grabbed one of Charles’ shoulders. “You know that's my favorite tool of arson...and lighting cigarettes, of course.”

“Well, if that's the reason you're using it, then I see no reason to give it back.”

Samuel shook his head slightly, leaning closer to Charles. “General Lee, am I going to have to  _ pry _ the information out of you?”

Charles scoffed. “I'd like to see you try.” He murmured with a challenging tone. 

Samuel smirked and put his entire weight on the larger man, making them both fall onto the mattress. Samuel wasted no time before immediately locking lips with Charles’.  The general gripped the speaker’s shirt so he could pull him closer, deepening their kiss.  Samuel brought his knees up to the other man’s hips so he could straddle Charles.  The smaller man slowly broke of the kiss to take a breath. 

“You won't get past my walls, Seabury. You'll never get me to talk.” Charles growled playfully, showing Samuel a pouty smirk. 

Samuel gasped, pretending to be offended. “How dare you, General Lee.  You are not aware of what position you’re in.” The speaker pinned Charles to the bed with his forearms, dipping his head closer. “You’re powerless against me.”

“I’m powerless against you.” Charles repeated, allowing Samuel to begin passionately kissing him again. 

Charles made a small moan and ran his hands down Samuel’s back, moving them until he reached the other man’s hips. Charles gently slipped his hands under Samuel’s shirt, slowly feeling up his torso. 

The smaller man froze, eyes widening. He gasped as he felt Charles’ fingers near his chest. Samuel hurriedly sat back up and Charles quickly retracted his hands. The speaker placed his own hands on his chest. His breathing was fast. He looked terrified. 

“I-I'm s-sorry…” Samuel panted. “It's j-just...I-I don't…” 

“No, no, it’s okay.” Charles interjected. “I’m sorry…I’m so sorry...”

Samuel rolled off of Charles and lay next to him. Charles lay on his side and wrapped an arm around his love.  Samuel nestled close to Charles, his arms still partially blocking his chest.  The general took a moment to notice how Samuel was seemingly inspecting him. His eyes darted nervously, but his focus still remained on Charles. 

“Hey, it’s okay…” Charles said reassuringly. “I'm not going anywhere.”

Samuel managed a small smile. “I know...I know…I love you, Charles.”

“I love you too, Sammy.”

Charles eventually heard the deep breaths that signified that Samuel had fallen asleep. He gazed at the smaller man’s relaxed face, grinning to himself.  Someday, they would finally reveal themselves, and Charles had been hoping for that day soon. 

But he was too scared. He couldn't risk everything he loved. 

He couldn't risk Samuel. 

Charles hugged his secret lover closer, feeling his own exhaustion slowly taking over him. 

“I’ll always love you...forever…”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This wasn't supposed to be a chapter, but I'm having major writer's block on the actual "Chapter 5" (though I guess it'd be Chapter 6 now), and I was feeling really inspired to write this. So enjoy! 
> 
> Also chapter art is a thing now. Yaaaay. (https://prntscr.com/faj5s6)

_ The war.  It was all because of the war.   _

Samuel fiddled with the top button of his jacket, muttering curses to himself.  

“Do you need help with your buttons, sweetie?” his mother called behind him.

“I, um… yes,” Samuel muttered. 

His mother laughed and quickly fastened the final button.  “There you go.”

“Thanks, mom.”

Samuel’s mother tried to smile, but she had to look away. She couldn't bear to see her son in a uniform of war.  

“M-mom…” Samuel stuttered.  

“No, it’s okay.  I’m okay, honey,” his mother sighed, and looked at her son.  “It’s just… you grew up so quickly. It only seems like yesterday when you were… going to your first day of school.”

The young soldier laughed and rubbed the back of his neck.  “Yeah… time sure flies, doesn’t it…?  But you and Dad always said I needed to get outside more, so...”

Samuel looked up to see his mother on the verge of tears.

“Oh, Sammy…” she whispered.

“I’m sorry, M-mom. It was just a joke…”

“I know, I know,” Samuel’s mother replied, hugging Samuel tightly.  “I’ll miss you.”

Samuel wrapped his arms around his mother, filled with a sudden feeling of regret. 

“I’ll miss you too, Mom.”

His mother was silent for a long time. Samuel could tell she was trying to say something, but she couldn’t translate her thought process into words. Many things went through the minds of the mother and son. 

“Stay alive for me, okay?” his mother finally murmured.

Samuel went stiff.  It was like he finally realized what would happen if he perished on the battlefield.  Who he would leave behind if he died.

“O… of course, Mom…” Samuel answered. “I'll see you again.”

_ Lies. _

A door suddenly creaked open behind the two of them. Samuel’s father stood in the doorway. 

“H-hey, Dad,” Samuel greeted timidly, letting go of this mother.  

_ Samuel’s father hated his son. He hated everything about his son. _

“Are you ready?” his father asked. 

Samuel shrugged, keeping his gaze away from his father. “As ready as I'll ever be.” 

The young redcoat gasped when he felt his father hug him tightly and bury his head in his son’s shoulder. 

“Make me proud, son,” he choked. “Make me the proudest father in the world.”

_ He never even viewed Samuel as a son.  _

“O-of course, Dad,” Samuel responded with a tight throat and wet cheeks.

_ They never loved their own child.  They didn't care when he left for war. Samuel was a failure of a son.  He ruined everything. Nothing changed.  Even when… _

It had been six months since Samuel became a Redcoat.  Half a year since he walked into hell.  And how did he celebrate it?

“Your family was captured,” said General Arnold. “The patriots took them.”

Samuel felt his knees give way under him, and he had to be caught by his superior.  “N-no…” Samuel breathed.

Arnold firmly pat Samuel’s back. “Don’t worry, kid.  Clinton’s army is going to lead an attack. He’ll break your parents out.  Releasing the prisoners will be the top priority if they succeed.”

_ It was like what his mother always told him.  Never make promises that couldn’t be fulfilled. _

_ Never.  _

Two months passed.

“What about my parents, huh?” Samuel demanded, speeding behind Arnold.  “You haven’t said anything about them!  I know the battle was successful!  I’m not an idiot!” 

The general was silent.  

“Just tell me!” Samuel shouted.  “Do they not want to talk to me again?  Do they not want to see me again?  Do they think I’ve failed them?  Just TELL ME!”

“The patriots tortured the prisoners for any information…” Arnold began. “Everyone they retrieved was on the brink of death.  They barely managed to nurse your father back to life.”

Samuel choked on seemingly nothing.  “And… my mom…?”

Nothing came from Arnold for what seemed like an eternity.  

“I’m so sorry, kid.  Her body couldn’t sustain that much pain.”

_ She died.  She died in a cold cell alone.  Without her husband.  Without her son. _

Arnold sighed.  “They found her dead.  She must’ve gone a day or two before our troops came.”

Samuel didn’t know what happened next.  He heard screaming, most likely his own.  He barely realized that he was violently gripping onto his general and fiercely pounding Arnold’s chest.

It took him a while before he could transform his shrieks into real words.  Curses, insults.  All towards a man that didn’t deserve it.  As time passed, Samuel realized that he blinded himself with his tears of denial.

Emptiness was the only thing Samuel felt.  

_ Letters flew around Samuel, the sound of the papers fluttering was almost deafening.  The hurricane of parchment slowly grew tighter and tighter around him.  It blew most of the air around Samuel away, making the entire area full of suffocating grief that twisted the redcoat’s throat.  _

Another month went by, and nothing ever warranted a reaction from the young soldier.  Not until…

_ He didn’t mean to kill him. _

Samuel was sitting behind a barricade.  He didn’t pay attention to any of the gunfire, for he didn’t care.  Samuel looked up and suddenly saw a patriot standing above him, and immediately pulled the trigger of his gun.

Screaming. 

The patriot soldier desperately grasped the fabric of Samuel’s coat.  He was begging for Samuel to do something, but he could barely understand the words.  He was so young. Younger than Samuel.

Samuel shakily reached towards his gun again, barely able to see through his own tears.  He tried hard, so hard to put the patriot out of his misery.

But he couldn’t.

_ The young patriot shivered violently as his grasp on Samuel grew weaker.  His form suddenly spread out into an amorphous blob, slowly sinking into the ground.  Samuel stood up and ran away from the battle entirely.  He had to get out. _

Five days slipped away.

Arnold stood in front of him.  “Your father, he…”

Samuel tried to prop himself up on the table.  More misery engulfed his head. Everything was becoming blurry again. 

“They don’t know if it was murder,” Arnold continued.

“What else could it have been?” Samuel interjected, immediately regretting it.

“... Suicide.” 

_ He did it.  Samuel killed three people in the matter of months.  First his mother, then the young soldier, then his own father.  They were dead because of him. _

Another eight months dripped away from Samuel’s life.

He wanted to leave the army.  He wanted to go back home.  They called him weak, a coward.  Samuel didn’t care.  He wanted to leave the army. And eventually, they let him go. 

But not back to his home. 

_ Buildings seemed to loom over Samuel. The swirling of paper seemed to grow closer to him. Samuel grabbed one of the papers and read it.  _

_ He recognized the two handwritings on the paper. Handwriting he saw nearly every day of his life. _

_ Samuel clutched the paper tightly, sobbing into his other hand. He didn't mean to kill them. Pain suddenly shot through Samuel’s arm, making him yelp. He looked down and saw the letter slowly beginning to sink into his hand. Samuel screamed and grabbed the paper, viciously tugging at it. The paper was ripping skin out as it was being pulled out, so Samuel let go of it and let it sink into his flesh. Samuel cried out as he felt the sharp parchment slice against the muscle and bone of his hand. Before he knew it, the other letters were latching onto Samuel, burrowing themselves into nearly every part of his body, or at least the ones they could find. The loyalist fell to his knees, shrieking for a person who wasn't there. The world was darkening around Samuel. Not because he was fading from consciousness, but rather because his own tears were black ink. The words of his family shredded his entire body. Samuel desperately tried to tug a paper from his cheek, but to no avail. Samuel screamed and screamed until the letters suddenly stopped sinking into his body.  _

_ Then...silence. Samuel slowly felt his entire being.  Papers and envelopes were scattered across his body with no sign of any pattern.  They stuck like small needles, making Samuel look like some sort of sea urchin.  He was unnatural, something that shouldn’t even be alive. _

_ Suddenly, the buildings that were looming over Samuel moved closer to him, slowly beginning to crush him. _

_ That’s all what New York City was.  A prison.  A cage that Samuel could never fly out of.   _

_ Samuel screamed again as he felt the buildings push the papers inside of him.  The speaker screamed for it to all stop.  And to his surprise, it did.  The buildings seemed to disappear from existence, leaving Samuel kneeling weakly on the ground.  The papers were invisible now.  They weren’t gone, but they were inside Samuel.  Writing was part of him now.  No matter how much he hated it, he couldn’t live without it.   _

_ It was his lifeblood. _

_ The speaker felt someone familiar hug him tightly from behind. _

_ “Please... let me go home…” Samuel begged weakly. _

_ “Shhh… don’t tire yourself…” The man murmured, his thick accent sending a shiver down Samuel’s spine.  _

_ The man grabbed Samuel’s jaw tightly and began roughly kissing and biting Samuel’s neck.  Samuel could only shake weakly against the iron grip.   _

_ “N-no… please…” Samuel gasped, trying to wrench the man’s hands off of him. _

_ Samuel’s struggle became more violent when he felt a hand sneak up his shirt. _

_ “Mine…” the man breathed, feeling Samuel’s chest. _

_ The man began to drag him backwards, deeper into an unknown abyss.  Samuel screamed again, kicking wildly.  The man simply laughed and continued to drag Samuel away. _

_ Deeper… _

_      And deeper… _

_              And deeper… _

___________________________________

Samuel’s eyes snapped open in a cold sweat.  It took him a while for him to realize that he was still in his bed, laying next to Charles.  Charles was fast asleep, snoring loudly.  Samuel nestled closer to his boyfriend and felt the calm rising and falling of his chest.  There was no way Samuel could fall back asleep, not after that kind of nightmare, but the warmth of Charles slowed his heartbeat to a more normal rate.  Hours passed, and Samuel felt every second drip away.  When he felt Charles stir awake, Samuel forced his eyes shut and pretended to be asleep.  

Charles slowly opened his eyes and glanced at a nearby clock.  It was extremely early, but Charles had to leave at an extremely early time to escape potential witnesses.  The general sat up and rubbed the exhaustion from his eyes before stretching.  Charles looked down at Samuel, who seemed to be fast asleep.  The taller man smiled and gently kissed Samuel’s cheek before getting off the mattress.  Before Charles’ exited the speaker’s house, he grabbed something he hid when he had entered and placed it on a table.  It was a gray rectangular lighter with a feather pen design etched into it, the lighter Samuel was attached to.  Charles sighed and left the house, locking the door behind him.  

After Charles left, Samuel was alone again.  Alone is his prison.

The greatest prison in the world. 


	6. Chapter 6-A Super Rushed Chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry.

“A-yo, Lafayette!” a voice chirped. 

Lafayette looked from his phone and saw his friend Henry Ramsay speedwalking over to him. “Ah! Bonjour, ‘enry!”

Henry laughed. “Really, Laf? Would it kill you to just pronounce the ’H’ for once?”

Lafayette smirked. “Would it kill you to say ‘hello’ for once instead of ‘a-yo’?”

The other man chortled and slapped Lafayette on the back. “You’re an asshole.”

“Alas, I admit it,” Lafayette replied. “Anyway, has anything new happened since I last saw you?”

“Got a new uniform,” Henry announced, spreading his arms to expose his short coat more. “You like?”

“... That's the same red as before, Henry,” Lafayette pointed out. 

“It’s salmon.”

“It's red.”

“It's a slightly lighter shade of red.”

“It's literally the same jacket.”

“Okay, fine,” Henry groaned. “At least let me try to feel good about wearing the same stuff everyday.”

The Frenchman shrugged. “At least the color distracts people from your face.”

Henry put his hands up in sarcastic defense. “Hey man. You're just jealous ‘cause I'm prettier than you.”

“Of course you are.” Lafayette rolled his eyes. “Especially with those spots on your face.”

“Excuse me.  My freckles give me character, okay?”

“What kind of character?”

Henry shrugged. “I dunno. Character.” He glanced off, shifting awkwardly in his place. He swallowed once and waffled for a few more moments before he could work the courage to ask, “Hey… I heard you… killed someone…”

“Yes?”

Henry rubbed the back of his head and ran his fingers through his dark curls. “Did that person…?”

Lafayette shook his head. “Don't worry, mon ami. He didn't look anything like the people you described.”

He sighed in relief. “Good.”

“If I may ask.” Lafayette cocked his head. “Why do you care about those people so much?”

“I-I told you, man. They're important to me…”

“Yes, but important how?  They aren't your family, they're all in England, and they aren't allies. By what I've heard, they are extremely passionate patriots-”

“You wouldn't understand!” Henry snapped, only for his sudden anger to be replaced by sinking regret. “I-I'm sorry.  I shouldn't be…”

“Non, non. It's all good, mon ami.” Lafayette sighed. “Though, I will admit, I may have seen one of the men you spoke of.”

“What?” Henry looked up. “Who?”

“The man you described as ‘burly, always wears a bandana, kind of like the fashion police’. That one.” Lafayette recalled. “He was at a bar I went to.  Although, I shall admit, I did not pay much attention to him.”

“O-oh…” The freckled man glanced down for a moment. “Uh...why not?”

Lafayette smiled. “I have met a woman unlike any I have seen before.  She was, how you say… simply wonderful.”

Henry snickered. “Damn, Laf. I've never seen you so smitten before!  Did ya catch her name?”

“Ah, her name… her name was Elizabeth Schuyler.” Lafayette sighed. 

“S-Schuyler?” 

“Yes, mon ami!  The same Schuyler as General Angelica Schuyler!” Lafayette chuckled. “I didn't even know there was two Schuyler sisters. They barely look alike!”

The king’s servant looked away for a moment. “I think there’s three, actually.”

“Three?!” Lafayette repeated, astounded.  

"Y-yeah...it's...uh...it's weird..." Henry mumbled. "Not a lot of people know that.  The third one, Peggy, she was adopted by one of the generals."

Lafayette cocked his head.  "Peggy?  Oh, you mean...Peggy Washington?"

Henry flinched.  "Y-Yeah.  How did you know?"

"I believe a mission is about to happen involving her, or at least her family."

"...W-what?"

"Eh oui, mon ami.  Lord knows that the king is planning to do with someone related to the general of the patriot army.  Holding them for ransom, I assume."

The servant seemed to twitch uncomfortably.  "Y...Yeah...let's hope it's only that."

“ ‘Enry...we can only pray.”

Henry nodded. “Y-yeah, Laf.  That’s the most we can do in times like this.”

Lafayette’s phone buzzed, making him check the screen quickly.

“Merde.” Lafayette cursed. “I must leave now. Have a good week, Henry!”

The other man nodded. “Of course.  Y-you too!  Remember to seize life!”

The frenchman smiled before leaving Henry’s sight, leaving Henry alone.

“Seize life, Laf...don’t become another husk.”


	7. Chapter 8-Taken Away

#####  Peggy tapped her pencil against the textbook in front of her, complaining to her sister in the form of a phone call.  Admittedly, Peggy was annoyed how Eliza did not understand that math was hard.

“Did you read the examples?” Eliza sighed into the phone.

“Yes, I read the examples, and I still don’t get it.” 

“Peggy, it’s a simple concept.  It’s the basics of trigonometry.”

“I’m too young to be learning this stuff!” Peggy fretted.

Eliza sighed. “Peggy, you’re about to turn eighteen.”

Peggy slammed the textbook shut, annoyed with her sister. 

“And you’re twenty-one!” Peggy retorted. “Why aren’t you getting math lessons from Angelica?”

“Well first off, Angelica would be a terrible teacher.” Eliza began, making Peggy snicker. “And secondly…”

The older sister went off on a tangent that Peggy was all too familiar with.  It was all about how she needed to catch up with vital education of girls her age.  How she needed to learn how to be a responsible woman.  Because trigonometry was totally an essential part of becoming a better person.  Peggy stood up and put the phone on speaker so she could grab a snack from the pantry.  She heard Eliza’s sentences about becoming a better person and how she would be wasting her potential by just waiting for the war to end, but there was one phrase that caught her off guard.

“Our father would want what’s best for you, even in war times.”

Our father.  Not yours, not mine.   _ Our.  _  Peggy sat back in her chair, haunted by the word.

“Do you understand, Peg?” Eliza said, finishing her rant.

“Yeah...yeah I understand.” Peggy mumbled.

Eliza was silent for a moment, recalling what she said. “Do you want me to come over?  I don’t have anything today.”

Peggy smiled, her heart growing less heavy. “Yeah, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course I don’t.  We’re still sisters, after all.” Eliza replied. “I’ll see if Angie can come along. See you in a bit!”

And with that, the conversation ended, leaving Peggy alone once again.  

_ We're still sisters.   _ Could Peggy even be considered as a Schuyler sister at this point?  After almost three years of almost never seeing Eliza or Angelica, three years of living in a different house, three years of having a different surname, was Peggy still part of their family?  The thought horrified the teenager to the point where she sank into her chair so far that her neck was near the seat.  Peggy took a shaky breath and quickly sat back up, picturing Eliza lecturing her about posture.  Eliza, as well as Angelica, was the only family left for Peggy.  After their parents, Peggy’s original parents, were taken by the war, the two eldest tried her hardest to keep the trio of sisters together.  It hurt Peggy to see her older sisters sacrifice almost everything to support them.  They spent hours of the day to help Peggy through her grief, Angelica took up multiple jobs to earn extra money, Eliza even cooked nearly every meal just so they could eat together.  But now that Peggy was part of a different family, she couldn’t help but worry that all Angelica and Eliza did was for nothing.  

Peggy blinked, suddenly noticing that her vision was blurry.

“Ugh.  Come on, Pegster.” She muttered to herself as she wiped away her tears. “You’re better than this.” 

She sighed and rubbed her eyes with both hands.  Peggy took deep breaths just to make sure the crying would stop.  

_ ‘What would Angelica say if she saw me crying?’ _ Peggy thought, slightly grinning to herself.  _ ‘She’d probably make some cynical comment on it, but would stop pushing it before Eliza could start scolding her.’ _

As if on cue, the youngest sister heard a large knock on the front door.  Peggy immediately jumped out of her chair and sprinted towards the door, an enormous grin on her face.  She didn’t even care about what would happen between her and her sisters, for Peggy wanted nothing more but to spend time with them.  Peggy swung the door open, eyes shining and heart happy.  And then…

“Bonjour, mademoiselle.” A tall man said with a warm but fake tone. “Mind if we step in?”

Peggy slammed the door and locked it.  Loud commands immediately erupted, all coming from the tall man, who had a distinct French accent.  Peggy grabbed her phone and a knife from the kitchen running to the back of the house.  She shakily dialed Angelica’s phone number and hid inside a closet as the sound of the front door breaking filled the house.  

The phone rang...and rang...and rang…

_ Y’ello.  This is Angelica Schuyler.  Leave a message and I might call you back.  _

Peggy held back a sob before vomiting out everything she knew about her current situation.  Footsteps echoed throughout the house, mixed with the sounds of doors being slammed, cabinets breaking, and men shouting.  The young woman called Eliza next, praying that someone would answer.  The phone rang as the footsteps grew near. 

_ Hello, you've reached the phone of Elizabeth Schuyler.  I am not available right now, so please leave a message after the tone.  _

Peggy curled up, trying to keep her breathing steady.  She quietly repeated what she said to Angelica, only to be cut off near the end when she heard the people enter the room she was hiding in.  Peggy stopped the call and shoved the phone in her pocket, gripping the knife tightly. 

_ ‘They're on Angie’s motorcycle.  That's why they didn't pick up,’ _ Peggy told herself.  _ ‘That means they're on their way.  They'll be here soon. They'll-’ _

Her thoughts were interrupted when she felt someone grab her arm.  Peggy cried out and stabbed the knife at the hand, digging it deep into the attacker’s flesh.  The attacker screamed and yanked his hand away, giving Peggy a chance to escape. 

“You little bitch!” He cried out.

Peggy dashed out of the closet, only to find herself surrounded by people who wanted to kidnap her.  One man stepped forward and swung at Peggy.  She quickly dogged out of the way, which made the man knock a lamp over.  More attackers swarmed the teenager, grabbing her by her arms and shoulders.  Peggy struggled against the grips, but she couldn't break free. The tall man from before came up to her and pressed a cloth against her nose and mouth.  Peggy struggled more violently, making her breathe the sickly sweet fumes.  Slowly, but surely, her strength began to fade.  The world began to turn dark as Peggy prayed that her sisters were near.  She prayed and begged for someone to save her.  And then, she was out like a light. 

Angelica pulled up to the familiar house that she had visited so many times. 

“We're here.” Angelica announced, slipping her helmet off. 

Eliza hopped off and removed her helmet before checking her phone. 

“Hm.  Seems like Peggy called me before.” Eliza pointed out. “Too bad I couldn't answer.”

“I'm sure it's no big deal,” Angelica replied. “She was probably just wondering where we were.  But we’re here now!”

The middle sister nodded. “Yeah, but I still want to listen to her voicemail. Just wanna make sure.”

Angelica shrugged, walking up to the front door. “Yeah, that’s...fair…”

The snarky look on Angelica’s face dropped into shock and horror.  Her chest tensed up and her eyes widened.  The front door was wide open.  Eliza gasped, one hand clutching her chest.  Without hesitation, Angelica sprinted into the house with Eliza trailing close behind.  

“PEGGY!” Angelica screamed into the house. “ _ PEGGY! _ ”

Eliza covered her mouth and forced back tears.  She hesitantly listened to the voicemail, hoping there was some clues in them. 

_ Eliza, it's...it's Peggy.  _

The entire house was a mess. 

_ I’m guessing you and Angie are on your way right now, which is why neither of you are answering.  I-I’ve already left Angie with the same voicemail so… _

Cabinets were ripped open, its contents spilled over the floor.  

_ Some people are after.  I...I don’t know who, I don’t...I don’t know why. _

Chairs were splayed around with no pattern.

_ I just...they’re in red uniforms, and there’s one that spoke to me.  He was, uh, he was tall.  Taller than me, at least. _

All rooms were a mess, but there was one in particular that caught Angelica and Eliza’s attention.

_ He had black hair, I think?  It was curly and he wore it in a bun or something.  And he has this accent.  It’s French...or something... _

There was blood on the floor and multiple signs of a struggle.  

_ Uh, I don’t know how close you are, but please.  I’m scared... I don’t know what’s happening or why.  Just...just please come soon. Please I… _

The voicemail suddenly ended, leaving the sisters in total silence.  Angelica fell to her knees, tears soaking her face. 

“Oh god...oh god…” Angelica muttered in total denial. 

Eliza put her phone away, choking back her crying. “Angie, we gotta...we have to…”

The younger sister couldn't finish her sentence.  Eliza collapsed next to Angelica and pulled her close, finally allowing herself to cry.  Her body shook with sobs.  The two sisters hugged each other, refusing to let each other go.  They could hardly believe it.

Peggy was gone.

#### 

**Author's Note:**

> I also posted this on my Wattpad of the same username, so don't freak out if you see it there!


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